


sharing the weight

by timelxrd



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fix-it fic, Gen, Hug Fic, Mostly Fluff, One Shot, low-key thasmin, thirteen gets the hug she deserves, thirteen needs to be protected, yaz gets the hug she deserves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelxrd/pseuds/timelxrd
Summary: “It’s okay to be sad,” says Yaz. She thinks those are her words. The Doctor can’t tell.Her brain is foggy with overexertion. Both of them, in fact.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 15
Kudos: 157





	sharing the weight

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year folks !!!
> 
> this has NOT been proofread and is simply a regurgitation of all my feelings after the special so bless u if u can actually make sense of it <3

“It’s okay to be sad,” says Yaz. She thinks those are her words. The Doctor can’t tell. 

Her brain is foggy with overexertion. Both of them, in fact. 

She guesses that’s what happens when she’s given more interaction than four marked walls and one-sided conversations with angry jail mates for the first time in two decades. 

The double doors of her ship click shut and the last wisps of Graham’s vintage  _ old spice _ cologne linger in the air around the remaining two. 

That which once made her scrunch her nose in distaste and back away with a brazen  _ do you  _ **_bathe_ ** _ in that stuff, Graham?  _ — now just leaves her chest heavy and one heart in mourning. 

She hopes the scent remains a few moments longer; a gradual dissipate rather than an abrupt evacuation. 

Just until every blink doesn’t feel like a dam fissuring. Just until she has the energy to immerse herself in a series of adrenaline-fuelled trips as a worthy distraction. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Oh. Yaz is still there. Of course. Head wonk. 

Wait — why is she — 

The Doctor turns. It’s a slow effort but she greets guilty eyes head-on. “Sorry?”

“I didn’t think,” Yaz supplies, but the Doctor can see in her eyes there’s a lot to come; she just has to be patient. Let her ride it out. “About you, I mean. When you turned up again today. I didn’t think about how much  _ you’ve _ been through for the last few months. Y’were in jail, for God’s sake, and I made it about  _ me _ . I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” 

“Yaz—” 

“No. I was selfish. I should’ve checked you were okay. Like Jack said — I should — I should just be grateful you came back. ‘Cause you could’ve let us go. You didn’t have to come back, but you did. Despite everything.” 

“Of course I came back. You’re my—”  _ fam _ . Huh. She’ll have to scour the word from her tongue from now on. “My friend. Of course I came back.” 

The Doctor straightens up, nudges an errant switch on the console south, fidgets on her feet to train what’s left of her energy through her limbs. She hears a telling sniffle a second before she glimpses up again. 

Yaz’s face is turned away and, skittishly, she swipes her fingers under her eyes. 

The Doctor grants her a moment’s privacy — Yaz hates it when anyone sees her cry — and ducks her head, clasping her hands in front of her to keep them reaching out. She’s still tingling all over from the amount of physical contact she’s had today. It’s surprisingly addictive. 

“Yaz, when I —” the Doctor clears her throat, lifts her gaze; keeps it steady. “I saw all the notes, in the other TARDIS. I scanned through the journal you’ve been keeping. I shouldn’t have, I know. And you’d be right to be angry at me, but —” 

“I’m not the only one who’s had a hard time, right?” 

Yaz’s huff of amusement is weighted down by the guilt and concern and exhaustion still gracing her expression. She falls short of a laugh just as the Doctor falls short of catching her twitching fingers. 

“I think Graham and Ryan thought I were losing it,” Yaz breathes, brows knitting in restrained hopelessness; as though a part of her still refuses to believe the Doctor is back. The same Doctor who can read her like a book. “I think I might’ve been, too. You got here just in time, I reckon.” 

The Doctor shoves her hands into her trouser pockets and leans her weight onto one foot while the other nudges at a loose wire beneath the console. “I saw the sleepin’ bag, too.” 

“I didn’t want to miss anything. I kept waking up at home with a new theory; a new way to find you. If I stayed at the TARDIS, I could combine everything and be closer to you at the same time. ‘Cause that’s what it felt like, on that TARDIS. I felt like I were closer to you.” 

On the search for a way to react amongst the jumbled, overstimulated nerves inhibiting her brain, the Doctor touches a hand to Yaz’s elbow; finds her wrist. Encircles it. 

“Yasmin…” 

Yaz trembles with something akin to dread. “You’re usin’ my full name. This must be bad.” 

“No, I just need you to know somethin’. I need you to really,  _ really _ take it in. ‘Cause there’ll come a day where I might not be here, for whatever reason —”

“Doctor, don’t—” 

“ _ Yaz _ . Listen to me. There  _ may _ come a time, where— obviously, I don’t  _ want  _ it to happen — but I might not be here. I might not come back. If that does happen, you can’t lose yourself to figuring out how or  _ why _ , because if there’s a way for me to come back, I will. To you. Always. I might be old, but I’m not givin’ up that easily. And not without trying my hardest not to leave you in the lurch.

You’ll  _ need _ to carry on. Just keep me with you, in here.” The Doctor unravels her fingers from Yaz’s wrist and her jumping pulse to tap gently at her temple, then to the left of her torso. “And here. And you’ll be alright. Because you’re proper brilliant, Yaz. We can’t have a universe without you, even if I’m not here.” 

With a silent nod, Yaz finds her pinky finger and enshrouds it. The Doctor likes the look of soft brown around pink. 

“Promise me you’re not going anywhere for now,'' Yaz croaks. The Doctor swallows around a lump in her throat. “I’ve only just got you back.” 

“I’m not movin’ a muscle,” the Doctor states, cheeks warming. Why is she blushing? Oh — because she’d like a hug. From Yaz. Determined, brave, strong, stunning Yaz. “Except, perhaps, if you’d be okay with it —” 

Between blinks, Yaz steps into her space and shrouds her in willing comfort. The pressure is almost too much at first, but she soon sinks into it with a sigh bred from heavy lungs and a heavier heart.

“Oh. Yeah. This. This is good. Very good. Thanks, Yaz. Ten points for you,” she breathes into her collar, fighting the urge to squeeze until her impulse control grows too weak. Arms secured around Yaz’s waist, she tightens her hold until their bodies are pressed satisfyingly flush and Yaz grunts a laugh into the crown of her head.

Yaz is warm and solid against her. They fit into place like the foundations of a house. There’s only a matter of time before they form a home. 

Why hadn’t she thought of this any sooner?

The second Yaz goes to pull away, the Doctor simply clutches tighter with a whispered, “Not yet.” 

“That’s okay,” Yaz murmurs just as quietly, reestablishing her hold without hesitation. Her thumb finds the back of her neck and breezes across the top of her spine in a caress so tender and foreign but so yearned for that the Doctor can’t help but sag against her with a satisfied sigh. 

Soothing the tension she finds under the pad of her thumb until the muscles cry their gratitude, Yaz murmurs, “Doctor, can I ask you something?”

The Doctor nods. She can only avoid the inevitable for so long. Now she’s hidden from view, at least, she can allow her mask to slip. “Of course.”

“You said you didn’t know who you were, earlier.” Yaz’s pulse trips over itself, then continues its steady thud against the Doctor’s temple. Determined. Strong. Just like its composer. “What did you mean by that?”

Taking a breath which Yaz must feel, as she eases her hold, the Doctor drops her forehead to Yaz’s shoulder. “Back on Gallifrey, the Master, he — he told me some information which changed my perception entirely. It turned everything on its head. Everything I thought I knew was a lie. My whole life turned around in an instant. I’m not who I thought I was.

All my lives, Yaz, I thought I was born on Gallifrey. I thought I was just another Gallifreyan kid in the academy, just another runaway during the time war. But I was wrong. I wasn’t born there. I don’t know  _ where _ I’m really from. Do you know how it feels to be lied to for your entire existence, Yaz? I was so angry. Jail helped me process it, a bit, but I’m still — I don’t even know how to describe it. Angry, confused, hurt,  _ betrayed;  _ I feel it all.” 

“That’s — but that’s —” Yaz stammers, brows pinching. She curls her arms tighter, shielding her from what’s already made its mark. “That’s horrible. I’m sorry that happened to you.” 

Shrinking, the Doctor returns to her new favourite hiding place. 

Yaz’s perfume fills her nostrils at the same time as the Doctor’s lungs fill with air. 

“You’re still the Doctor, though. You still help people.” Yaz straightens up, maneuvers the Doctor with her. “You’re still the best person I’ve ever met.” 

“Even if I don’t know myself anymore? Even if I’m still figuring things out?” 

“You’re still the person I met on a train three years ago,'' Yaz implores. God, she’s good. Five more points to Yaz. 

Yaz’s thumb is replaced by her palm when she encourages her head up by the back of her neck. “You’re still  _ you _ , Doctor. And I’m gonna remind you of it whenever you need me to.” 

Peeling back but affixing her hold onto Yaz’s elbows, the Doctor bats her long lashes north and lets her hearts soar. “Could y’say it again for me now? Just one more time?”

When Yaz levels their gazes with glossy eyes and a smile which trembles at the edges, the Doctor swallows thickly. In hope, in overwrought emotions, in admiration; she’s not quite sure. Perhaps she needs proper rest. 

“You’re the Doctor,” Yaz supplies in earnest. “You’re always gonna be.”

Fresh assuredness makes quick work of her doubting minds. Wavering on her feet like a wrung out toddler, she still manages to drag a sanguine smile to the surface. “Thanks, Yaz.” 

“And, Doctor?”

The name feels a little more like home. “Yeah?”

“D’you wanna come for tea at mine?” 

Oh, she’s made her day. The Doctor grins with her whole form. She thinks her feet might leave the ground with an excitable bounce. 

“Tea at Yaz’s? Amazin’. I’ll definitely come for tea at Yaz’s.” 

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

Following Yaz’s footsteps around the console and towards the door, the Doctor emerges in a flit of coattails. “All thanks to you.” 

If she picks up on Yaz’s blushing cheeks (of course she does), the Doctor doesn’t mention it. Instead, breathing in a lungful of air, she swings her arms up in admiration of the skies above. “Two decades cooped up in prison really makes you miss fresh air like this, huh?”

A step ahead, Yaz freezes. 

Huh?

_ Oh _ . 

Oops. 

Perhaps she’s more tired than she thought. She must be, if her words are so eager to run away from her. 

Yaz finds her hand, locks their fingers together and squeezes. Her eyes are wide and wet. “ _ Two decades _ ?” 

The Doctor’s gut churns in the aftermath. She’s got a lot more explaining to do. 

But, taking her by surprise, Yaz simply shakes her head. The Doctor is going to have to reign in the blaming game clear behind Yaz’s pupils, it appears. “You don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

Sidling into step beside her, the Doctor bumps their shoulders and swallows back how grateful she feels. “Thank you. I will, just —”

“Not right now?” Yaz finishes for her. 

“Yeah. That okay?” 

“Of course. Only when you’re ready, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Yaz,”

* * *

“Yaz?”

“What’s up?”

“It’s going to feel weird for a while, isn’t it? Without the boys?” 

“It will, yeah. But d’you know what we’ve got?”

“What?”

“Eachother.” 

“Huh. I guess you’re right. Yeah. I knew y’were my favourite.” 

“Don’t let the boys hear you say that. Are you alright with it, though?”

“With what?”

“It just bein’ us two from now on. That okay?”

“I think it’s going to be brilliant.” 

“Yeah? Me too.” 

* * *

“Yaz?”

“Mm-hm? D’you want seconds?”

“Already had ‘em. I love pakora. I had a question, actually.”

“‘Course. Go for it.”

“Are you sure we couldn’t tempt Hakim along?”

“Definitely not.” 

“Hm. What about —” 

“Doctor, we’re not takin’ my family to space.” 

“Fine, but tea at Yaz’s can be a weekly thing, right?”

“If that’s the compromise, sure.” 

“Brilliant! Thanks, Yaz. Are we still doing points?”

“Just eat your food, Doctor.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“ _ Doctor _ .” 

“Alright! Hakim? Another helping, please!” 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! comments & kudos are always appreciated!!!<3


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